


One More Dawn

by sapphireswimming



Category: Critical Role (Web Series), UnDeadwood (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s01e04 Goodnight Miss Miriam, Gen, Gen Work, Negotiations, One Shot, UnDeadwood Mini-series (Critical Role)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:40:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28246320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphireswimming/pseuds/sapphireswimming
Summary: After all they’ve been through, Miriam doesn’t know what’s brought them to this point – why Aloysius is holding a gun to Clayton Sharpe’s head - all she knows is that she doesn’t want anyone to die tonight
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	One More Dawn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [avearia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/avearia/gifts).



> Also posted here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13784274/1/One-More-Dawn
> 
> Set during, with major spoilers through, the end of Episode 4: _Goodnight, Miss Miriam_
> 
> Title from the musical Les Miserables' song _One Day More_

“No,” Miriam said, throwing out her arms in protest as if that alone could stop the sudden standoff between Clayton Sharpe and Aloysius Fogg. “No, no, no, no, no, wait -”

The revolver in Aloysius’ hand stayed firmly trained on Sharpe where he sat at the bar of the Gem Saloon.

“Hold on, wait, wait. Just, wait,” she pleaded, stepping toward Aloysius.

The only change her words managed was a narrowing of his eyes. “You’re not gonna be able to hold this off indefinitely, you know,” Aloysius pointed out, his patience beginning to wear thin. ”No matter how much you keep talking.”

“Yes, I know that,” she agreed, desperate to say anything that would keep them talking for just another minute instead of engaging in the unimaginable alternative. “I know that, I just-“ she faltered for a moment, casting out in her mind for an actual argument she could make that might derail whatever had brought them to such a place.

“It’s been a long night,” she finally said, “and we’ve all been through a lot.”

Sharpe’s dark eyes slipped over to meet hers.

“And I just don’t think that anyone’s quite…” she looked at Aloysius again, “in their right minds and, and thinking clearly just now.”

One of his eyebrows rose. “Oh, I think I’m thinking just fine, thank you.”

“Yes,” she rushed to agree, eyes wide and suddenly terrified that he might interpret her words more keenly than she’d intended. “Yes, yes, but. But neither of you are at your best. You’re both wounded. He’s clearly exhausted and- and that snake thing bit you when we fought Doc Cochran at the Pit, didn’t it?” she asked, gesturing to the dark stain that had soaked through much of his pant leg. “That’s bound to turn nasty if we don’t get it seen to soon.”

Aloysius shifted his weight against the creaky floorboards, balancing between his bad leg and fresh wounds, but his gun remained steady.

“Now, I ‘preciate your concern,” he said, clearing his throat, “but it doesn’t hurt all that much. I think I’ll get along just fine.”

“Well,” she countered, “you may be fine now, but are you going to be fine with both a snake bite _and_ a bullet wound?”

The corner of Aloysius’ mouth turned up in a quick smile. “Now that’s assuming that Sharpe’s going to hit me.”

Miriam canted her head, her hands coming up to her hips. “I don’t think that’s a very big assumption,” she said, surprised enough at the statement to forget the panic blooming in her chest for a moment. “Considering who he is, and considering his reputation. Best sharpshooter in town, remember? There’s a reason he’s so sought after – people want him in order to protect their interests. Mr. Swearengen brought him into this whole mess because he’s so skilled, didn’t he?”

Aloysius just shook his head. “Naw, Swearengen brought him in because they hadn’t worked together before. Just like he did with all of us,” he corrected, his tone never deviating from the easy unconcern he’d used ever since first drawing his revolver.

“And besides, if you hadn’t noticed, we’re just about the only ones left in this godforsaken town,” he said, jerking his head toward the darkened, abandoned street. “Titles like that don’t mean much when there are only a handful of people here.”

“But it-” She didn’t know what else to say that could convince Aloysius to stop, and so even though she knew he wouldn’t care, she said the thing that was at the top of her mind, that was twisting her chest with the same intensity as the hands convulsively clutching at the folds of her skirt. “It simply wouldn’t be _fair_ for you to shoot it out now.”

“Oh, fair’s got nothing to do with it,” Aloysius replied easily, his glittering eyes unerringly trained on Sharpe, who still hadn’t moved from his seat.

“Ain’t fair that he’s been free for the past fifteen years. Ain’t fair that he’s still walking. What’s _fair_ ,” he said, finally looking back to Miriam, “is the law finally catching up to him like it should have a long time ago.”

“Alright,” Miriam placated with her hands out. “Alright, alright.”

The biggest problem was that she still didn’t know what all of this was about – what Sharpe’s alleged crime was, or why this scene was playing out the way it was, or why it was playing out at all. But she was just as sure – the certainty driving straight down to her bones – that the charges against him didn’t matter.

She didn’t need to know what he’d done to know that she needed to come between him and Aloysius if there was any hope of the both of them living out the night. She’d worked a lot of business deals with less information, but never at so high a cost – never with the life of a friend in the balance.

Miriam’s heart raced faster and faster, until she could feel the heart beating in her chest. The panic was pulsing just underneath every _thump-thump_ and she couldn’t stop it from rising to her ears as she felt her only chance to save Sharpe slipping away between her fingers like so much dust.

“But,” she said, trying not to show just how quickly she was breathing, how much her throat had tightened. “But if it’s already so unfair, as you say, then surely it won’t be that much of an issue to delay justice just one more day.”

“And I mean,” the Reverend cut in for the first time, his broad face painted in concern. “It’s the middle of the night. After what’s been… an unspeakably long day. Are you, are you really going to try to do this _now_?” he asked, looking between the three of them in turn. “That just seems…”

“Like overkill,” Arabella supplied from next to him.

He turned to her, head already nodding in agreement. “Overkill, right? Yes, exactly,” he said. And then, when no one else spoke, he tentatively asked, “And if this is truly justice, truly isn’t personal…?”

“It ain’t personal,” Aloysius shook his head, then turned toward the man he was dead set on trying to kill, despite their best efforts to persuade him otherwise. “I have nothing but respect for you, Mr. Sharpe,” he assured him.

The Reverend paused at that, one hand raised as if about to say something when Miriam reached out to put a hand on his. It was trembling and he didn’t protest when she lowered both of their hands and turned to Aloysius.

“Well, then… well, then it won’t matter if we all just calm down a little and wait a bit,” she said. “Justice and revenge can both be served cold, can’t they?” she asked, jutting out her chin a little. “It’ll still be the same tomorrow, just, let’s get you both patched up a little.”

His eyebrows rose. “Patched up… so we can shoot at each other in better health?” Aloysius asked slowly.

“Yes, that’s the idea,” she nodded firmly. Then, “Come on. Just one night. Can’t we agree to hold off for a night? It’s only a few hours, and it’s pitch black outside anyway. What are you going to do, try to shoot at a shadow?”

“I mean, we did steal nearly half the lanterns in town,” Arabella pointed out. “Which would probably make that… quite a difficult feat.”

Miriam canted her head toward Arabella. “That’s an excellent point. I don’t see how you could possibly see each other clearly if you tried to shoot now, anyway, so let’s just hold off until tomorrow.”

“Mmmhmm,” Aloysius hummed skeptically. “And how am I supposed to believe that he’ll still be here in the morning if I agree to something like that?”

“Well, we can… we can set up a guard?” she tentatively offered, but Aloysius was already shaking his head.

“Y’all want him to go free. You’ll just let him run out the back door.”

“But… our rooms are upstairs,” the Reverend pointed out.

“Out the window, then,” he shot back.

“What if you stood guard too? With one of us,” Miriam was quick to add. “To make sure that _you_ don’t shoot him in the middle of the night.”

“I’m not gonna shoot him in the middle of the night.”

Miriam watched him for a long moment, her lips pressed into a thin line. “Well, with you like this, I’m not sure I trust you not to,” she said eventually. “So how about we take turns all keeping watch on both of you in the same room?”

Aloysius stared at her, then at Sharpe, who sat damn near swaying at the counter, one hand clenching his empty shot glass in a death grip.

Sharpe had been watching the proceedings carefully, his eyes following each speaker in turn as they made their case, but he’d made no move to run or join in the conversation or continue arguing his innocence in the face of Fogg’s justice.

“He tries to run for it, though, and I _am_ shooting him,” Aloysius said, staring at the man.

“Of… of course,” the Reverend agreed after an awkwardly long moment when no one else said anything.

Then Sharpe spoke for the first time since Miriam had intervened. “I won’t try to run for it,” he assured them all in a rasping voice.

“It’s settled, then?” the Reverend asked, looking closely at Aloysius.

“We all stand watch tonight,” Miriam laid out the terms they’d agreed upon. “Nobody dies tonight. You both get some rest and… and we can figure this all out in the morning.”

“Still won’t be anything to figure out,” Aloysius told her.

“Well,” she said, swallowing hard. “We’ll see how things look in the morning. After we’ve all had a chance to calm down a bit.”

Aloysius looked long and hard between them, and it was still a long minute before he relented, uncocking his revolver and lowering it to his side. Miriam closed her eyes briefly in thanks and the Reverend let out an audible sigh of relief.

“Like I said, I’m perfectly calm,” Aloysius said, still not holstering his sidearm. “And there won’t be anything new to talk about in the morning.”

“Well,” Arabella rolled her shoulders and drew the word out stiffly from behind a painfully forced smile. “You can’t fault us for trying.”

Miriam had already crossed the floor so that she was next to Sharpe when he stood slowly, one hand clutching at the counter for support as he got his legs underneath him again.

Her hand was visibly shaking as she looped it through his arm. “Come on, Mr. Sharpe, and let’s get you upstairs.”

They moved slowly, just as much for Sharpe’s benefit as for Aloysius’. The events of their fight at the Pit earlier that night had hit him hard and his steps visibly dragged along the floor, dogged with exhaustion the likes of which she could only imagine.

But his shoulders were straight as they passed Aloysius and Miriam lifted her head higher to match. Arabella silently filed in behind them, and the Reverend posted himself as the last barrier between Aloysius and the rest of the group as they made their way toward the stairs. 

“Well,” Miriam whispered once there was some space between them. “We’ve gotten you one day, at least.”

“Mighty fine of you,” Sharpe said, breath hitching as he reached out for the banister. “But you really didn’t have to do that.”

“I’m only sorry that we couldn’t do more. But,” she faltered before continuing bracingly, still clutching his arm more tightly than strictly necessary, “but everything will look better in the morning.”

He huffed a bit of a laugh, then. “I’m not so sure about that,” he murmured, continuing their even pace upstairs. Despite the bone-weary fatigue, he was fully aware of Aloysius’ eyes following their progress, ready to shoot if he made any wrong movements, regardless of who might get caught in the crossfire.

“Well, I am,” she whispered forcefully, patting his arm. “I don’t… I don’t claim to know all that’s going on, but. But we’re not going to just…” she swallowed the lump in her throat at the very thought of losing him after everything they’d been through together.

They took another step.

And another.

“We’re not going to just let you go quietly.”

The corner of his mouth turned up in his best approximation of a smile. “I’m not sure all the good it’ll do,” he admitted as they crested the top of the stairs. “But, I uh, I greatly appreciate it.”


End file.
